Morning
by TheNewIdea
Summary: There are some mornings when you just know exactly what the day is going to bring, and then there are mornings when you have no idea what's going to happen, when the world turns on its head and the cynics become optimists, the optimists become cynics.


It was a crisp spring morning in early March. It was exactly the type of morning that someone would want to sleep through, but being a weekday, it was impossible for everyone. As Chip woke up from a restless sleep, he stepped lazily outside of his tree to examine what the day was going to be like. He barely got a foot out when he retreated, only to return with his jacket and fedora, his feet bare, completely defeating the purpose of retreating in the first place.

Climbing down the tree, Chip looked around the small community park, taking in the sights and sounds of the nearby neighborhood. The sound of a car, several actually, as their respective owners went in to their respective 9 to 5 jobs. A blue house that sat on the edge of the park, the beginning of the neighborhood. Chip knew the house, recognized its white trim around the edges and windows, the distinct and fashionable yet completely lacking in function sailor hat on the roof, the signature of Donald Duck. Across the street from this blue house was an equally recognizable yellow house with red trim, the color alone the giveaway trademark of Mickey Mouse.

As Chip looked at the houses, taking specific note of their size, for it was considerable, at least for him when compared to his tree. Chip thought about the possibility of ever living in such a house. He knew from past experience that Donald hated him from the beginning and would immediately try to eliminate him, so that possibility was out. Mickey was hospitable, it was his dog, Pluto that was the problem.

"_Some things are for the best"_ Chip thought to himself, _"Maybe one day, I can have what others have."_

Chip, with all the calmness and confidence in the world, entered the neighborhood, deciding that he had had enough of the park and the tree and that work could wait for another day. Walking on Donald's side of the street, to avoid the risk of Pluto as much as possible, Chip constantly thought about how many people had given him no notice and had forgotten completely about his existence, for not only did he pass Donald and Mickey's houses without incident the people he did pass, said absolutely nothing. No salutations or good mornings, not even a passing glance. He was completely and totally invisible, and for the moment at least, he didn't care, in fact he actually liked it.

"_These people have no idea what they've allowed themselves to do" _Chip began once again, thinking in his head, _"If I can slip past their radar without a problem, think about what a burglar, a murderer, or a thief would be able to do."_

Reaching the end of the street, Chip looked left and right, more streets and more houses. Straight ahead was the beginning of the business district with Oswald's laundromat, Goofy's Candy Company, and ParrotGlass, the ophthalmologist and glasses place, run by resident parrots José Carioca and Iago the Parrot. Chip often thought about scheduling an appointment, in part because he needed one, and also to see José's and Iago's clashing personalities. Why they decided to go into business together at all was a mystery even to Chip, but it was one that personally, he was willing to leave unsolved.

Chip crossed the street, headed towards Goofy's Candy Company. Reaching the shop, Chip looked up at the storefront window, remembering the last time he was here.

It was three years ago, the last time Chip stepped inside Goofy's Candy Company. It was a rare occasion that Chip be around candy, for he detested it, seeing it as childish and foolish. However, on this particular day, Chip made an important exception. Browsing the various counters stocked with fangdoddles, whatchamacallits, and thingamajigs, Chip scanned and scanned for the biggest basket of chocolate he could find. Upon finding it, and realizing that it would cost most of last month's savings, Chip was half tempted to turn around and leave it. But then he remembered his brother Dale, the reason he was there, and how today was an occasion among occasions, for today he had passed the last threshold into adulthood.

Going against his own principles, for Chip believed that the gesture alone was enough cause for Dale to have a relapse, Chip bought the massive basket and began the tedious and troublesome walk down the street to his tree.

The sound of a car horn brought Chip out of himself and back to reality. Shaking his head Chip moved on, deciding against his better judgment to walk inside the store and buy something.

Chip eventually found himself at the other end of the street. Across the main thoroughfare was a second neighborhood. Somewhere in this mess of houses he knew, lived Goofy, Pete, and Horace Horsecollar, but he had never been to their houses before. Another mystery for another day. Chip made a right, heading towards Minnie's flower and boutique shop, Beautiful Things. As he walked his thoughts turned away from Dale and instead focused almost entirely on his former coworker and missed opportunity, Gadget.

Chip's relationship with Gadget was a difficult one, in part because of the competition with Dale, and in part because when it came to women, or talking to people in general, Chip was inferior, especially when compared to Dale. A natural introvert, Chip tried and failed numerous times to convince Gadget of his feelings, he had tried every trick in the book- flowers, jewelry, and chocolate. He tried poetry, going through the great lovers- John Donne, Shakespeare, Tennyson, and Hemingway. When material objects and poetry failed, Chip thought about being himself, so he did nothing, allowing the moment to come to him.

The moment came too late, for by the time the Rescuer Rangers had run its course, Gadget was already gone, on an airplane to some far off place that he never got the name of to be with some guy he never heard of. Chip did nothing to stop it, letting his emotions fester and boil in silence and agony. Never once did he openly declare his intentions, the poetry having been practiced alone in his room, the chocolate eaten by Dale before he could give it, the flowers not being the right color or dying prematurely and the jewelry being of so low quality that they weren't even worth pawning.

Reaching the flower shop Chip walked in and browsed the various selections of bouquets and individual flowers, ignoring the derby and Sunday hats that made up half the store.

"Can I help you with something?" Minnie asked as she emerged from underneath the counter, a pencil and notepad in her hand, for she was in the middle of inventory.

Chip shook his head, saying nothing and continued to look around. He began to walk among the wreaths and decorative garlands.

"How've you been Chip?" Minnie continued, showing concern, for the chipmunk was usually more talkative.

Chip shrugged as an answer and adjusted his fedora. He had no interest in interacting with anyone, preferring invisibility and anonymity. The chipmunk, upon seeing nothing worth buying, walked towards the counter and jumped up, patiently tapping his foot and looking aimlessly around the counter for the inventory book.

Minnie, curiosity getting the better of her, made her way back to the counter and smiled. Casually she rested her hand on her cheek, her elbow settling next to the cash register.

"I think you look so cute with that little jacket and fedora" she declared, "like a little Indiana Jones."

Chip rolled his eyes, insulted and annoyed at the same time, for not only was that exactly the point, but Minnie's sudden investment in him was preventing him from looking at the inventory. Of course, in his head, Chip knew that there was no way that Minnie could have known that was what he wanted to do, so reluctantly, Chip got out of his mind and began putting his mouth to use.

"Look sweetheart I'm kind of in a hurry. I don't have time for this, just get me a small wreath with blue flowers and I'll be on my way."

Minnie pulled out the inventory book from underneath the counter and began searching for wreath and flower types.

"I have violets, petunias, thistles, Colorado-"

Chip cut her off, for not only was Minnie wasting his time, her voice was getting on his nerves. It was bad enough that he had to break his silence, but it was even worse when he was stuck talking to a shrill and irritating mouse who asked too many personal questions that he had no intention of answering and was agonizingly slow at her job.

"Roses!" Chip screamed, "Do you have any roses?"

Minnie raised her eyebrows curiously, for as far as she knew there was no rose in existence that was blue.

"But there aren't any blue roses" Minnie explained, "There are white roses, they're quite pretty."

Chip shook his head and handed her a fifty dollar bill, way too much money for the wreath.

"Anything to end this conversation" Chip barked.

Minnie snatched the bill from Chip's hands, threw it in the register and slammed the cash drawer closed. She was insulted and hurt beyond measure, for she was only trying to be friendly. Pulling out a small wreath, just big enough to be a ring on her finger, Minnie handed it Chip and then unceremoniously pushed him off the counter and kicked him out of the store and onto the sidewalk.

As the shop door slammed behind him Chip inspected the wreath. Save for the color it was perfect. Chip knew that Minnie had taken considerable care in constructing it, for not only was it perfect, but it was inscribed, as if it was intended for his exact purpose. It was then that Chip burst into tears, not caring who heard or saw him in this defeated and lowly state.

On a small hill outside of town is a cemetery, in this cemetery is a large hill on which is a large oak tree. Underneath this oak tree is a small and seemingly insignificant headstone. Standing in front of the headstone, Chip looked up, staring at the branches and noticing the small platform, the remains of a porch, on the lowest branch. He found it fitting that Dale would be underneath their childhood home, for they had talked about it for hours on end, where they would want to be when they died. Chip, who hated the thought of being in the ground, opted for cremation when his time came, and for his ashes to be split into thirds and spread among this tree, the old Rescue Rangers headquarters, and the rest to be given to the wind.

After setting the wreath on Dale's headstone, Chip climbed the old oak tree, if nothing else to see what the view was like. Passing the platform and heading for the tree's canopy, Chip thought about how many times he had climbed up and down this tree, and how little he thought of the world beyond, or even if there was such a thing as a world beyond. Chip liked to believe that there was, but his brain, the logical part, told him that the possibility of a spirit world was unlikely, for there was too much pain, too much heartache, too much despair that existed for a place devoid of all suffering to make anything in the way of sense.

Five minutes later Chip was resting on the highest branch of the oak tree looking out at the sprawling neighborhood and the outlying woods. As the sun rose to high noon the birds in the trees began singing their last morning songs. Chip could see a few cars, most likely workers heading to lunch. Taking off his fedora and casually fanning himself Chip began singing the happy birthday song, dedicating it to Dale. As tears ran down his face, Chip smiled, for the sun, either out of convenience or through the answering of an unintentional prayer, came down on him in those few moments. It didn't take a genius or even a spiritual person to understand that to Chip, that simple ray of sunlight was much more, and that at least for a moment, the constant feeling of loneliness was replaced, not with joy or happiness, but with peace.


End file.
